


Letter to Remus: Number 58

by ablondeweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 00:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10262099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablondeweasley/pseuds/ablondeweasley
Summary: It all starts with Sirius not being able to bloody sleep again, so it's back to the leather notebook at the bottom of his trunk (secret pocket, of course-you can never be too careful with Prongs around) and time to write another letter to Remus-number 58, in fact. Except this time it's a rambling-sort of confession. A love declaration, if you will, and though it's definitely not the first, it's the longest he's ever written. The first time he's ever outright explained it all. And the worst thing happens: someone, The Someone Who Was Never Supposed to Find It, stumbles across it while looking for a jumper, and writes back, and James Bloody Potter gets involved, and it all goes to shit.





	1. Letter to Remus

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So anytime in the fic you see "diary journal," "diary" is supposed to be strikethrough, but I can't do the formatting thang, so sorry for the confusion and the suffering. I'll probably just edit "diary" out. Maybe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sirius confesses those bloody things we all have-feelings. But he had never intended for anyone to read them, 'specially not a certain someone.

Remus,

This is just something I bloody well thought I'd try. I'm not sure exactly what this is. It's a confession of some sorts, I'd guess. Though I'm not sure what I've done wrong.

Then again, falling for your best mate can be wrong.

A confession is like an apology, except for there is no apology. It's just a "this is how it happened, and this is the truth." And that's what this is. This is how it happened. And this is the truth.

Remus, mate. The first time I saw you.

Sitting in the carriage, all smallish and yet huge. It was like... you were the sun. You just suddenly... filled me. You were there. You were... it. You balanced everything out. Just me and James? Oh, Merlin, what a mess. We were rowdy and headstrong and... bullies. It's true. Even bullies to each other sometimes. Me, James, and Peter? Oh, bloody hell, that was worse. Peter would everything we'd say, even the bits that were so bad we couldn't do it ourselves. But with you? We became, not criminal masterminds, but bloody geniuses. No one fought. Everything was handled with perfect care, by you. Merlin, Moody. I can see why people would be afraid of me and James, but hell, I would be so afraid of you. With your brain and your calculation and your eyes. The observation, the cool, the calm, the glow, and that small bit of witty humor hanging in the corners, not collecting dust, no, never collecting dust. Just brought out for the appropriate occasions.

Remus. You taught me that being quiet and being shy are very, very different things. Being shy is being reluctant to talk to people. It's having trouble getting the words out, perhaps wringing them out with a bright red flush and a couple of "umm"s, and "uh"s, that flood out too. That's just not you. You're quiet. And being quiet? It's being calculating. It's having control. It's saying and doing just the right thing. When you're quiet, you've observed. You've thought about things. And it makes everything you do better.

You make everything better, Remus. Me. James. Even Peter. You make Peter feel important and needed, while James and I just use him. Like I said, you balance us.

I need you, Remus.

I can't even explain to you how much.

Before I...ran away, (Because that was what it was. I didn't escape. I didn't make a brave dash in the middle of the night. I ran.), when I had to go back there, I had memories that I'd bring out when Mum Mrs. Black would curse or scream or yell or hit or jinx or be bloody difficult.

And sure. Most of those memories are of James and I having a jolly ol' time at the Potters', or a fabulous prank with Pete wheezing and rolling on the ground with laughter, but the ones that save me?

Those are the ones after the full moon. When I wake up in the 'Shack with snapshots of dark velvet memories of sparkling woods, and rippling fur, and a howl that shakes the ground. When my muscles ache in that good way and everything smells like evergreen and is a little too bright. When the first thing I see is you, with just those ratty blankets, and perhaps a bare shoulder peeking out and, Merlin this sounds so bloody creepy, your liquid golden eyes and your hair has bits of forest in it and you look so beautiful and I could just wrap you up and hold you in my arms forever.

And your first laugh after the moon, Remus. It's sounds unused and like a Muggle smoker's. I love being the first one to make you laugh after the moon, Remy.

Your eyes just light up

Merlin this is all just rambling. I sound like a bloody teenage girl.

And I was supposed to tell you when this all started.

So. I can't pinpoint exactly when, but it was far before the map.

I think it was the day after that particular Transfiguration class in second year. We had all come back to the common room, and there was a roaring fire and it was a bit cold, just after Christmas, and we were all laughing, because, yes, it was that time that we transfigured McGonagall's desk. You know, that time that earned us house points and detention for the next month?

Ah, we were so talented, even then.

Well, we got back to the common room, and it was slightly dark, except for the fire, and you looked so pleased with yourself. It was one of the first times that a prank had made you feel so proud, and it made me proud, and I dunno, I guess 2nd year me found it sexy and daring.

And then you had taken off your robes and left them by the fire and you were just in your holey jumper and trousers and your hair was glowing and I was like-

Bloody fuck. Moony's really hot.

And it had started.

So, I guess, the years past, and you slowly ruined me, Remus.

Every little thing you did gnawed at my heart and filled my gut with heat, and I'm not going to even mention all those times you left me so sexually frustrated, and yes, that was the most mature way I could've put it.

And I realized I was completely, absolutely, in love with you in fourth year.

Yes, at just age fifteen.

And there isn't really a time. There isn't a story.

I just came back from a bleak summer, empty, and had basically used up all my happy golden memories, and there you were.

And suddenly I was fine.

And it hit me like...a knockback jinx. (Ooh, I'm so bloody poetic.)

I realized, (and yes, this is stolen from a Muggle classic, and yes, I'm quoting books and girly ones at that, that's how besotted I am with you, but I do quite agree with a certain Mr. Darcy) you have bewitched me, body and soul.

This letter that you aren't even going to read is getting bloody long. And it's 3:00 in the morning.

I've just snuck out of my bed to take a peek at you, and you, like any sane person would be, are asleep. Hmmm...you're wearing your flannel striped pajamas with the hole in the left elbow, and you are using your Potions book as a pillow. How bloody cute.

Merlin, I sound so much like a bloody stalker.

This letter, no, letters are written for someone and then are sent, so this is more of a diary entry, (bloody fuck) is making me even more depressed as usual. I hope I can make you laugh tomorrow morning at breakfast, to make myself feel infinitely better and even worse at the same time. I'm just going to sit here and watch you sleep for a bit, Merlin I'm so fucking creepy.

Well, Moony, I'm tired, and driving myself really fucking insane. Good night. I love you.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

-Sirius


	2. Letter to Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remus confesses his mistake, one that all of us can make: rifling through someone else’s possessions. You know, the way one might do when they are looking for their missing jumper they were just certain their friend had stolen from them last week, and had gotten fed up and quite cold? And not just going through someone else's possessions, even though this time there was a perfectly acceptable reason, Remus wasn't being nosy or a Peeping Tom, or even worse, a James Potter, but finding something you really shouldn't have found. And worse: reading that Thing You Really Shouldn't Have Found.

Dear Sirius,

Guess what? The other day I just happened to be rifling through someone else’s possessions. You know, the way one might do when they are looking for their missing jumper they were just certain their friend had stolen from them last week, and had gotten fed up and quite cold? Well, yes, that was a particular situation I just described, but it was a good example, because I just happened to find myself in that very situation last night. 

You know Sirius, I always knew that you didn’t tell me bloody everything. I do understand that people have secrets, and I do understand that people have possessions they like to keep private and, for lack of a better word, safe, from some friends who have the potential to be nosy and mean, as well as big-mouthed. Up until last night, I had been certain that I would only describe James and Peter as such, since they are quite nosy and big-mouthed.  
And though I would never be big-mouthed, I can sometimes be… curious.  
(Yes, I am aware that “curiosity killed the cat,” but I’m not a cat. I’m a werewolf.) And do you know what I found ever so curious last night? Why, the false, enchanted bottom to your trunk. What a nifty spell there, Padfoot. And, as I thought to myself last night, what a lovely place to hide my friend’s jumper that I stole from him last week.

Obviously, when I cast a couple of spells, (and the right one being “videtur occulta,” as I’m feeling a tad guilty at the moment,) I never expected to find a diary, or, since the Great Sirius Black would obviously never keep a diary, a journal.

Here is where I start apologizing. Again, as I have explained, I was looking for that jumper. I never intended to trespass on your most private thoughts and I never intended to read the diary journal. 

But sometimes even the best of us never carry out our intentions. I’m sorry again, Sirius. 

You are an amazing writer. Your letters were beautiful, and I’ll let you mock me because I’m feeling very, very guilty, they even moved me to the point of tears several times. I feel so bloody terrible for reading them. And now I will have nightmares for you after learning the terrible things your mother and father did to you. Again, I’m so terribly sorry Sirius. I won’t eat chocolate for a whole month. I’m so sorry.

I also learned some other things. Again, very sorry, but I’m delighted to inform you that we do share something in common: We both have been crushing on our best mates for quite a while.  
Now, it wasn’t since second year for me, rather first year, and the first time I bloody saw you at that, and, because I imagine I’m a little more organized or obsessive than you, I can pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with you.  
It was third year, after the May full moon. Two nights after the full moon, to be exact, and we were all sitting in at the edge of the Forbidden Forest by the Lake. Being May, late spring, and spring being the fairies’ breeding season, a very long process, fairies were flitting about among the Night Gladiolus, which, for the purpose of description and since these flowers have been my favorite for several years now, is a creamy yellow flower with a very nice spicy fragrance that blooms at night and is attractive to butterflies, bees, insects, and especially fairies, so they were glowing from the light of the fairies’ wings. Anyways, it was a new moon, obviously, so everything was dark save for the stars and the fairies, and while I really would like to say more about the constellations, I’m afraid I would bore you to death. (Not like you’re actually going to read this letter, but I did read yours, so, you never know. And I’ve begun to think that I may now actually bloody give this to you.) Age fourteen and James was already experimenting with fire whiskey, so he was drunk, and you and I were eating chocolate, and Peter was having an allergic reaction to the Night Gladiolus while attempting to catch a fairy. I was tired, but I remember you… glowing.

I had been crushing on you for two years now, not really sure why, except for knowing everything I loved about you. Your hair. Merlin, Sirius, don;t ever change it, and I know I tease you for it, but it is beautiful. Your cheekbones. Your skin. That Black family nose that I’ve seen on Regulus. Your eyebrows, which you can do so much with; you can raise one at a time, you can literally make them dance, you can have an expression on your face that comes from nothing but your eyebrows. And, bloody hell, your mouth. I could go on and on forever.  
Your laugh. Your hands. Your handwriting-I don’t know, it’s just oddly compelling. The way you wear your tie. Your secret smiles, the smiles you quickly flash, and especially the ones that are slow and sweet and make me fall apart. Were we ever strangers? I'm not sure we were. That day I first saw you there was something even then, though I didn't know what. I remember life before Hogwarts, sure, but you seem to have been there even then. I close my eyes at night and you’re there, and the thought of you not being mine makes me terribly angry, and sometimes I feel the wolf began to stir. And I was thinking about all of this, slightly chilly, eating bloody chocolate, and watching you glow, and I realized that I was in love with you. 

I’ve loved you in secret for so many years, even kept it secret from myself, and it’s both slowly made me fall apart and filled me at the same time. I’ve cried over you, and I’ve laughed ‘till I’ve cried over you, though I guess I should be ashamed of that somehow; aren't we all supposed to be tough? And while, yes, you make me weak, you do make me stronger. I’m sure of it. Without you and James and Pete, and you especially, I honestly would’ve given up long ago. 

And I fall for you harder every day. It hurts, Sirius; it’s a deep and physical ache. I wish it would stop sometimes, and yet I know if it left I wouldn’t be complete. Unknowingly, you’ve made me who I am.  
I love you, Sirius Orion Black. I love the parts of you that I now know you don’t even love (again, terribly sorry for reading your diary journal.)  
Please forgive me for trespassing on your most private thoughts, but not only have I found more parts of you to love because of it, I’ve learned that you return this love. And now, at 2:00 in the morning, while I’m sitting by the common room fire, I’m literally the happiest man alive.

Love,  
Remus


	3. James Fucking Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James does a thing that angers many people, says many swear words, has Peter help him, and leaves both Remus and Sirius pale and dying a slow and painful death.

“Remus? What the fuck are you doing up at this hour? And please don’t tell me you're studying.” James had wandered into the common room, his nostrils flared and hand raised in either the way one is when they are trying to conceal a yawn, or a re surprised.  
“I-I am studying, as a matter of fact.” Remus ran his tongue over his bottom lip and attempted to conceal both Sirius’s diary journal and the now foolishly long letter Remus had written in return. But to no avail. James Potter, even at bloody 2:00 AM, was a mischievously talented, nosy young man.  
“Aha! This is certainly not studying, it is in fact a letter! And perhaps a diary! Oh, Merlin!” James’ eyes were frantically scanning the page, and the diary had been open to Letter Number 57, so James began to scan that as well, and Remus saw his life flash before his eyes.  
Peter chose that moment to appear, looking quite sleepy, and then very afraid at the look on James’s face, not to mention the one on Remus’.  
They were both quite pale, Remus deathly so, and though James was beginning to flush, Remus looked as if he were about to die.  
“Please James, no, please, it’s, not, please…”  
“Merlin’s baggiest fucking Y-fronts! I was fucking right! Oh shit shit shit fuuuuuuuckkkk!” James began to dance and laugh, speaking in a very high pitched voice, and spewing out all the curse words Remus had ever heard.  
Remus felt as if he were light headed, and could do nothing as James had Peter go wake up Sirius.  
“I knew it. I knew it. I knewwww ittttt!”  
Remus, having resigned himself to a fate worse than death, asked very quietly, “you knew what?”  
“Why, that you two were in love, of course! Ah, I fucking finally get to say it!”  
“You… knew?” Merlin, James had known all along. Remus suddenly couldn’t hear anything over the horrific screaming going on in his head, as Sirius chose this moment to appear.  
“What the fuck is going on?” Sirius was shirtless, with his pajamas haging far too bloody low on his hips for Remus’ health, and he looked both tired and sexy.  
And Remus was dying a slow and painful death.  
James licked his lips and grinned, waving both Remus’ letter and Sirius’ diary journal.  
And Sirius began to transform into a tomato, while launching himself at James.  
“Where the fuck did you get that?!”  
“It’s too late, Sirius!”  
“Where did you fucking get it?”  
“Tooo laatttee! He knows! I know! We allll knooow!”  
“What the fuck?!”  
“Sirius.” Remus said quietly, and everything stopped. “I’m sorry.”  
And Sirius looked as if he was going to cry.  
“Just take this, Pads.” James handed Sirius the diary journal and Remus’ letter, “go read it upstairs.”


	4. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, though there isn't much more to say, people say things, and it's all bloody cute and brilliant, and there is kissing, (gross!), and even worse, "I love you"s. (Even nastier!)

Sirius came back downstairs in an hour. It was the worst hour of Remus’ life, as well as the longest and the quietest.  
He came back down crying.  
Fuck. Only once had Remus seen Sirius cry, and it physically hurt to watch. Some may think that there’s something special, something wrong, about boys crying, but the truth is it’s the same way girls cry.  
And there’s nothing wrong with it.  
Sirius had tears quietly streaming down his face, and it was all so gentle and painful, especially that little smile that just made Remus want to throw himself into the fire knowing he’d done something terribly wrong.  
Wait. Sirius was bloody smiling.  
“I don’t think there’s anything else to say, Moons. You’ve said it all, and so beautifully, and you now also know all my private thoughts, and I don’t really want to speak to you again.” The smile turned slightly teasing, and Remus couldn’t help but smile back, because that was the way it always was with Sirius.  
“Well.” James cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.” And with that, he pulled Peter back up the stairs, no doubt to eavesdrop, but leaving Sirius and Remus alone nonetheless.  
And Remus was afraid. Too be honest, Remus was afraid of this love. He was afraid of ruining this, and ending back the way he was before: alone at night, giddy and depressed as fuck, but never being able to escape the nightmare. How not to remember his gorgeous smile, his flawless beauty, then stop giggling to yourself in the dark. The memories that would no doubt spill over him, all the casual touches that were fireworks, the smells, the tastes, you know, that kind of pain. Then the pains that would come of rejection.  
You know he loves you, Remus, Remus thought desperately.  
Okay, but what if he and Sirius messed this up?  
What if I mess this up?  
And then Sirius kissed him. They collided in a hot, messy press of mouths and then pulling back, brushing their lips together in slow, aching kisses that burned brightly in Remus’ chest. He released Sirius’ wrists and ran his hands over soft skin, because, fuck, Sirius was shirtless, pulling him close and burying his face in a warm neck that smelled of wet dog and a soft, dark sweetness that was Sirius.  
When they drew apart, there was silence, and Remus’ chest felt so tight, like his lungs had gotten two times smaller. Sirius’s eyes were liquid night, mainly pupil and dark and hazy, and his breaths were shallow, the way they only were in dog form, and.. Remus couldn’t.  
Fuck it, Remus wanted to say, as well as casting a couple charms and throwing Remus on the sofa. But not only would that be rude and disgusting for the rest of Gryffindor, it would be too fast.  
Remus wanted to savor this. He had been waiting a fucking long time, and he could wait a little longer.  
“Sirius… I’m sorry.”  
Sirius cocked one of those fucking eyebrows, and gave him a slow smile. “For the kiss? For making me wait? For writing a letter that literally made me sob?”  
Remus couldn’t help it. He buried his head in that perfect spot in the crook of Sirius’ neck and shoulder and whispered, “for reading your, erm, journal.”  
Sirius echoed his sigh, and Remus felt it. “It’s okay, Moons.” His hands came up to circle Remus’ waist. “Besides, I think it did a lot of good things for us. For me, especially. My self esteem has gone through the roof!”  
Remus chuckled, “Yes, so has mine. Fifty-eight letters, huh?”  
Sirius made a small noise. “Yes, well, in case you didn’t know, I’m in love with you.”  
Remus pulled back and traced Sirius’ lip lightly with the tip of his finger. Sirius’ took a shaky breath and his lip pouted slightly, and Remus lost himself in the slight chapped-ness and kissed-redness of Sirius’ lip. But he freed himself and gave Sirius a crooked smile, “yes, well, I do believe I have first dibs. I did fall in love first, you know, or as you should know from the letter.”  
“Yes, the letter. But if you had read all my fifty-eight letters closely, and firstly, the sheer amount of them should give me first dibs-”  
Remus cut him off by leaning closer until they were sharing breath. “I love you.”  
Sirius’ eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones, and his liquid smile made Remus’ heart stutter. “And I love you.”


End file.
